The Game of Lies

The Liar was getting bored. He didn't know who had come up with this brilliant idea of recruiting more Liars, but when he found out, he was going to strangle him. He had gone through fifteen people today, and it was five more minutes until the end of his shift. Those fifteen people had either been blatantly obnoxious, cracking very bad jokes or very, very bad liars.

But the Liar was very good at his job, and he made every one of them think they were going to be chosen.

Last one, the Liar sighed to himself, crossing another name off his clipboard. He read the last name there. "Come in, Visere," he called.

No one entered, and for a second the Liar thought 'Visere' had grown tired of waiting and gone home, which suited everyone perfectly well. But then, slowly, the door opened, and a boy peeked inside. He was barely into adolescence - probably ten years old or so - with a head of untidy brown hair. But the Liar was immediately drawn to his eyes, which were a steady, unwavering green.

"Come in," the Liar repeated, motioning to the chair facing him.

Visere darted in and sat himself down very gingerly on the chair, looking not at all comfortable. His gaze was locked firmly onto the Liar.

Confident, thought the Liar, scribbling the word down. Though the boy was giving some opposite signals... Either confident, or frightened out of his wits, he added. "Well, Visere," said the Liar with a smile, "so you want to join the Diplomats."

There was a brief silence. The boy was taking his time, and he knew it. The Liar crossed out the last phrase he had written on the sheet of paper. The kid wasn't frightened. He was supremely confident. He was just acting.

"I do want to join the Diplomats," Visere said, in a fairly neutral tone. His voice didn't waver. "But I don't just want to. I will join."

The Liar's eyes narrowed. "How old are you?"

"Ten. Which is why I'm suitable."

Yes. Start training from a young age. The Liar made a note on his clipboard, then looked back up. "What if I told you there was hard work involved? It's not all fun and games."

Visere shrugged. "I know that."

Actually, thought the Liar, you have no idea. He grinned to himself. "What if I told you we're not serving the King?"

Visere's eyes widened. He realized his mistake a second too late. "Who are you serving, then?"

"The Queen."

"She's dead."

The Liar raised a patronising eyebrow. "I know that." He waited for a response, but the boy didn't speak. "Well then, Visere, what if I told you that we're not actually serving the Queen?"

"Who are you serving, then?"

The Liar allowed a smirk to play on his face. "The King."

Visere's face coloured. He made a move to stand up, but thought better of it at the last moment. "Two can play at this game," he hissed. "What if I told you I was an orphan?"

Good, thought the Liar, but not good enough. "Truth."

"What if I said my parents were killed in the almost-rebellion?"

Too easy. "Truth."

Visere's eyes narrowed. "What if I told you that my dream is to assassinate the King?"

The Liar's smirk turned into a grin. "Well then, my protege, we'd better hope that's a lie."

NaNoWriMo '11 - the Lying Division

So. NaNoWriMo is coming up. 50,000 words. 30 days. Consider yourself challenged.

I'll probably change this blog into one where I rant about the failures of my characters, why I can't write High Fantasy, and my plot holes big enough to drive a truck through them. So far I literally only have 3 named characters. Only 1 has a fully-formed personality. Altogether, including my named, unnamed and dead characters, I have 7. Small cast this year.

Let's give a small introduction.

King: Tyrant of the kingdom (of which I have no name). Sole ruler, his queen died of a reason I haven't thought of. Twelve years ago, there was a rebellion, which failed. Since then the king has made a Diplomatic Division, a group of people trained to negotiate and feed lies to the public.

Queen: Originally came up with the Diplomatic Division. As I said, she died.

Princess Aveline: Daughter of the king and queen...yeah okay, that was obvious. She's 17 now, very ditsy and spoilt, and totally in love with Visere.

Visere: The 'Diplomatic Leader'. The Diplomats call themselves the Lying Division as an inside joke. He's 20, handsome, a smooth Liar and an even better assassin. His parents were killed in the previous rebellion, so he will stop another rebellion by any means necessary. He's a mentor to Klyte.

Klyte: My main character. 16 and orphaned, he grew up on the streets. He was found by Visere (through a long-winded story you don't need to know) and brought into the castle to become a Liar.

Unnamed friend (possibly Nephele): Klyte's childhood friend, thrown out of her family for being a girl. Grew up on the streets with Klyte, but didn't go into the castle with him.

Unnamed vigilante (possibly Cyrin or Cyrene): One of the vigilantes of the kingdom who want a rebellion. They're sick and tired of the king's tyranny.

And that's all I've got xD Plus a long-winded, double-crossing, backstabbing plot involving lots of... plotting.

Prisoner

Experimenting with various possible plots, scenes, magic and characters in my next novel...
 
He drew a line of white fire across her neck with the tip of his finger. Then he began walking around her, drawing the line as he did so, so when he finished there was a circle around her neck - not big enough for her to move, but large enough so she wouldn't accidentally cut her throat.

"Tell me what I want," the man said, in a normal tone, "or I shall leave you standing here for as long as necessary."

The woman glared at him, defiantly. Her hands were tied behind her back and were hidden from his view, and she was frantically playing with what looked like a ball of black smoke. "I will not," she replied.

"Then you may stand, and you will die when you fall asleep. And I will watch you."

"If I die, the secret dies with me," she snapped.

But he was laughing and shaking his head. "I can get others," the man intoned. "Others easier to persuade, more willing to bend to my command. You are disposable, Linette."

"They will not," Linette said abstinantely. "They will never."

"You may believe it is so, but your hopes are foolish," said the man. "I have time on my side."

Behind her back, Linette's ball of smoke had expanded. It had crept down onto the floor and was lying exactly where her shadow was. The man hadn't noticed.

"They will come for me," she said. "And then they will kill you."

He shook his head, once more.

"Do not deny it," said Linette, lips curving into a smile.

"I shall deny it all I want," the man sneered. "And if I were you, I would not make any useless plans to escape." He strode around behind her, and casually stepped in her shadow. The smoke disappated immediately.

Linette's eyes widened, and she struggled against the bonds on her hands. But the ropes were tight and glowed blue with specks of gold, and simply became tighter every time she pulled against them. "Please..." She begged him. "Let me go! Or at least, allow me the chance to escape so that you can capture me once more."

"I do not play such games," said the man calmly.

"It will keep you entertained in the long hours before I go to sleep," she pointed out.

"Do not tempt me to slit your throat here and now."

Linette fell silent.

Message

Experimenting for 'what if's for my next novel. Obviously it won't be as badly written as this, if it does happen.

A messenger arrived at the front steps of the palace. "I have a message," said the man, "for someone called Visere. I was told he could be found here." He held out a scroll.

The king looked at it suspiciously, but nodded. "Call Visere," he nodded to a servant. The servant turned tail and disappeared, to be followed a second later by a handsome man in his twenties, a politely curious smile on his face.

"There was a message for me, your highness?" said Visere. His voice was controlled, and pleasant. He caught sight of the messenger. "Is that him?"

"Yes."

The scroll was quickly passed over, and the messenger left. Visere, after a moment's hesitation, also turned around and went back the way he came, through marble corridors and up a staircase before reaching his own room. He locked the door then sat on the bed, carefully unfurling the letter.

To Visere, Sorcerer of  ____,

We are sorry to inform you of the deaths of your mother Acacia and your sister Myssie. They were found dead inside their home on the 20th of August. Please accept our sincerest apologies.

Yours,
[insertlongandfancynamehere]

Visere stared at the letter, stunned, after he had finished. He sat there, eyes staring, completely immobile. Then he read it again. And again. Then he stood up and, hands shaking, ripped the letter into tiny little pieces. He let them fall to the floor, and took several deep breaths, closed his eyes, and screamed. With a thud, his knees hit the floor. His head was tilted up towards the sky, his eyes were scrunched closed, and his scream echoed throughout the palace. It was one long sound: horrible, piteous, and filled with anguish.

His hands hit the floor too, and dry, wracked sobs shook through his body. He dugs his nails into his palm so hard that they began to draw blood.

The door of his room was suddenly thrown open, a girl standing there in the doorway. "Is everything alright? I heard a scream--"

"NO!" he roared, suddenly on his feet again. The girl was jerked back, hit the corridor wall, and crumpled. She didn't get up.

"No..." Visere whispered. "Nothing's alright. Nothing. NOTHING!"

He ran. Out of his room, out of the corridor, pushing past stunned people then into the sun, then he kept running, stumbling down the stairs into the courtyard. There was a horse - he swung into its saddle and began to ride. His hands were bleeding, and so was his lip, from the effort of keeping the tears from leaking out. They did so anyway as he rode towards the horizon, only gaining speed and never losing it.

He screamed again, then let go of the horse's reins and made a furious motion with his hands. Everything fifty feet from him rippled as if it had been struck by a wind, then collapsed into a junk heap.

By now, people have begun chasing after him. They began calling his name, straining their horses for extra speed. They yelled at him to come back, to tell them what was wrong.

Visere heard their voices and, amidst his tears, smiled mockingly. It was a painful and icy smile, and only flickered for a moment before a spasm of pain crossed his face. "Come back?" he breathed. "Come back? I'm not going back, you pathetic ragdolls. You're never going to see me ever again."

The Failed Test Subject

Her father led her into the elevator, then pressed a button. Down they went, lower than the ground floor, the car park, lower than she had ever gone before. Her whole body tingled with a mixture of excitement and fear, and she shivered.

"Are you sure about this, Lynette?" her father asked, for the third time in five minutes.

"Yes, yes, of course!" she replied immediately, eyes shining. "I want to see him! Just one look, dad, you promised! Please?"

Her father sighed. "Alright. I know I've told you already, but--"

"Yes, I know there's a bulletproof glass wall between us! He'll be nice, I just know it."

Down and down the elevator descended until, with a final ding, arrived at its destination. The doors opened. Her father stepped out warily. Lynette practically bounced out with excitement.

The one long corridor was lit with white electric lights on the ceiling, giving the atmosphere an artificial glow. At the end of the corridor was a lone door - made of steel and kept locked at all times, expect when the person on the other side was fed - three times a day, every day. Other times, he was kept confined, alone, and his actions were monitored ceaselessly.

Lynette's father opened the door, and they stepped into a small compartment. Another door blocked their way. He locked the first door behind them, then thrust the key into the next, which slid open noiselessly. She stepped into the room.

At first, she couldn't see anything. It was dark, lit by a silver light in the shape of a crescent. She could clearly see the glass separating the room into two. The side she was standing in was empty, painted black, and devoid of any furniture or colour of any kind. The other side was much bigger - many trees, but not enough to be a forest, a small pond, vines, and a house. It was a large house for one person, painted brown, and stood ominously in the darkness.

Her father let out a low whistle, then paused and waited. He whistled again. "Come on out, Visere!  You have a visitor! A visitor is someone who comes to see you. Isn't it exciting?"

Nothing happened for a few moments, then the front door of the house opened. A tall man walked out - sixteen years of age, dressed in a short-sleeve shirt, baggy pants and no shoes. His dark hair was down to his waist and immensely tangled, his eyes were too big for any human, and gleamed with savagery. When he opened his mouth, Lynette could see that his teeth ended in points.

"Lynette, say hello to Visere," said her father.

She took a breath, but the words caught in her throat. Her eyes were glued to this strange spectacle. She tried to speak, choked, then cleared her throat and tried again. "H...H-Hello..." Desperately, she turned to her father. "Does he understand me?" she whispered.

His father didn't answer - the person did. "Yes," he said quietly. "I do." His voice was hoarse from lack of use. His large, dark eyes stared into her soul.

"Oh," Lynette squealed. "Well, um, hello." Once again, she looked to her father for help, but he smiled and prodded her forward. Hesitantly, she took half a step towards the pane of glass. "My name's Lynette. Um... my father said your  name was Visere. Is that right?"

The person nodded almost robotically, face devoid of expression.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, blurting out the only thing she could think of. "Um... it's... nice weather, isn't it?" Lynette blushed. Obviously in this dark underground room, he couldn't see the weather outside.

"I don't know," said Visere, still in his quiet tone. He switched his gaze to her father. "What is a 'weather'?"

Her father cleared his throat. "It's the, uh, conditions of the sky."

Visere swung his head up, looking at the black ceiling many meters high, then turned back to Lynette. "Yes," he said conversationally. "Very nice weather. What did you say your name was?"

"L-Lynette."

"I'm sorry." Visere inclined his head, half-bowing. "I do not... remember things well. I do not need to remember anything here."

A pang of pity stabbed through Lynette's heart. "Oh, um," she said timidly, completely lost for words.

"I do not, of course," continued Visere slowly, "usually have visitors. I am to be kept in solitary confinement for the rest of my life."

Her father looked uncomfortable. Lynette ignored him. "D-Do you like that?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "Not really. But I cannot do anything about it. I understand that this is for my own safety, and the safety of others. I do not want to... to..." He struggled for a word. "I do not want to make everyone else feel unsafe."

"I don't think that's fair," said Lynette quietly. "I think you should have a chance to live a normal life, too. Even if you are a bit... different."

"I am not different. I am a failed test subject."

"Well, did you volunteer to be tested on?" she demanded.

He frowned and closed his eyes, as if trying to understand what she was saying. A few seconds later, his eyes opened again, and his face was a mask once more. "No, but I do not mind. Not really."

"Yes you do!" Lynette cried. "Of course you mind! Who wouldn't mind being trapped down here by themselves for the rest of their lives, just because they were tested on and found to be 'dangerous'? It's a horrible thing to do to someone!" She gasped, and suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth. Had she gone too far? Lynette glanced sideways at her father, but he was looking away from her, and she couldn't see his expression.

"I am told," said Visere, "that the other... option... is death. I do not know what death is. I have asked everyone, but nobody can tell me. I do not want something that I do not know. Do you know what death is?" he asked.

"I-It's," she began, then seemed to choke on her words again. Lynette fell silent and shook her head, as she tried to prevent tears from leaking out from the corners of her eyes.

Visere nodded sadly, as if he had expected this. His large eyes seemed to be drawn on something. He blinked curiously. "You have water on your face," he said. "Where did it come from?"

Lynette supressed a sob, then wiped the tears out of her eyes. It didn't work, because they just kept flowing. "I... I'm just... I..." She had to stop as a sob wracked through her body. The tears didn't stop.

He seemed to realize what was going on, and adopted a calmer tone. "If you are upset with me, you do not have to stay here."

She shook her head so quickly that her vision blurred. "I'm not upset," she hiccupped. "Not with you, anyway. But I do have to go now." She hesitated. "You're a really nice person, Visere. You know that? I'll come back for sure, to talk to you. I'll be your friend."

Her father put an arm around Lynette's shoulder, and walked her out. The door closed and locked behind them. Visere was left standing, watching silently through the wall of glass. At last, he said to himself, "I do not understand what a friend is."

Then he shook his head, and went back inside his house.

An argument

"I said no already!" Visere whipped around, eyes furious. He shot the girl opposite him a menacing glare. "I told you, I'm not going to die!"

There was a wooden table between the man and the girl, who was on a plush leather chair, and looked a little too comfortable. She sighed and took a breath. "You have to, Vis!"

"Look, Therese, I have everything planned out. I have a whole group of Sorcerers from both kingdoms. I have a huge political influence, more than enough money, and an army at my disposal. Who's going to kill me?"

"You'll get killed before you get the money and army."

"I already have them."

The girl called Therese quickly backtracked. "I mean, before you get to them."

Visere's eyes flashed. "I thought you wanted this," he said accusingly, standing up. His intimidating figure was towering over her. "I thought it was your idea to have a four-way battle! To frame two innocents! Why do you want me dead now, at the crux of things?"

"I don't want you dead!" snapped Therese. "There are certain ... sarcifices ... which need to be made. You'll just have to be one of them."

"Why?"

"Why? For God's sake, Visere! You're evil! You're the villain! Villains have to die!"

"So this is for the sake of the plot?"

"Everything is for the sake of the plot!"

"Therese--"

"Stop calling me Therese!" The girl cut across him. "I'm your Authoress! I feel like you're insulting me every time you call me Therese."

"Therese stems from Authoress," Visere explained innocently. "I can't exactly go around calling you Thoress."

"Then explain why it sounds insulting."

Visere smiled playfully. "Obviously I'm degrading your title of Authoress into a name which can be given to any lowly character."

"Obviously." The Authoress smiled painfully. She thought that she should pull this back on track. "But I am the Authoress, and I move the plot. Without the plot, the book is nothing! Nothing, you hear me?"

"Aren't I your favourite?" Visere complained. "Don't I get a chance to live? Can't the evil guys win, for once?"

"Well, I planned that until my Muse came up with another idea," mused the Authoress. "Besides, that wasn't High Fantasy enough. That was running away and Eragon-y."

"I can't believe this," said Visere icily. "You're throwing me away because you have to let your main character win?"

The Authoress gave him a nervous smile. "Yes?"

Visere was silent for a moment. Then his lips curved into a vicious smile. "I understand," he said, turning around. He began marching out of the room. "I understand completely."

"Where are you going?" cried the Authoress. The door from which he entered vanished just before his hands touched it.

"Why Therese," said Visere pleasantly, "haven't you realized already? I'm going to kill your precious main character!" He clicked his fingers, and vanished from the room.

Visére

Visére wasn't a person with a good sense of justice. He didn't struggle with morality. He never wondered whether his actions were for the greater good. He only ever wondered about a few things, and one of them was himself. The other was how much money he had. The third was how long he was going to survive for.

So even he surprised himself when he volunteered to become a spy. Yes, he would be pleasing his own lure of danger. Yes, there would be enough money for him to spend the rest of his life. But no, he wasn't going to survive very long. Not at all. Definitely not if he was caught.

Persuading a young, naive, arrogant sorcerer to become a spy was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn't foresee the reaction. If Klyte said no--and he had every reason to say no--then Visére was dead by morning. On the off chance Klyte agreed, Visére could still be killed later. Klyte could double-cross him. He could be killed in battle. He could be assassinated.

On the other hand, if he didn't get killed, he would spend the rest of his life in the palace, servants flocking to do his bidding. He would be in the greatest honour of the king. That is, unless the king backstabbed him. Visére frowned. That was possible. What use would he be when the war was over, when they had won? The king would have no need for a spy; especially someone who was so good at hiding secrets.

Visére made up his mind, and nodded to himself. Oh, he would play along being a spy for now. But when the time came, he will take his own section of the army, hopefully allied with Klyte's sorcerers, and forge a new empire for himself.

Oh yes, and then Klyte would have to die.